Page 99 of The Sugar Maple Inn

He raised his glass. “Authenticity.”

They lingered over pudding, laughing in a way that made Reese’s chest ache. He couldn’t stop looking at her—cheeks flushed from wine and firelight, hair catching the glow. Every once in a while, she’d glance up and catch him staring. And instead of looking away, she smiled.

By the time they stumbled outside, the air had cooled, the smell of bonfire smoke drifting on the breeze. Fairy lights glowed along the fence. The red phone box stood there, glowing softly from within, like it was waiting for them.

Grace caught his hand, tugging him toward it. “Come on, Mr. Billionaire. Let’s see if this thing still works.”

He followed her in, barely fitting, their bodies pressed close in the tiny space. She tilted her face up, eyes sparkling. “I think it only takes coins.”

“Then we’ll just have to improvise,” he said, voice low.

Her laugh turned into a sigh as he kissed her: deep, hungry, all the restraint he’d been clinging to unraveling one button at a time. The sound of rain hit the glass above them, soft and steady.

When she sank to her knees, the receiver bumped lightly against the wall, swaying on its cord. Reese’s hand hit the glass, breath shuddering out of him and all he could think was that no amount of money or travel or power had ever felt remotely like this.

Heat flooded through him as she took him into her mouth. He looked down, watching her work him, slow and hungry. He could feel it building already.

Damn, what this woman does to me.

“Fuck,” he said as she swirled her tongue around him, “just like that.”

She pulled him deeper into her mouth and his muscles went taut. “No, no. You got to stop, I want to be inside you, Grace.”

He pulled her up, hitched her leg up, shoved her panties aside, slid a condom on, and sunk into her as she gasped.

“This is insane,” Grace gasped between movements. “We’re—oh God—we’re having sex in a phone booth.”

“Yep.” His voice was strained, rough. “Any complaints?”

“Not a single one.” She wrapped her legs tighter around him, and they both made sounds that definitely carried beyond the glass walls.

When he came, Reese buried his face in Grace’s neck, his whole body shaking with the force of it. They stayed like that for a long moment, breathing hard, tangled together in the tiny space.

“So,” Grace said eventually, pointing out a small crack in the glass. “I think we broke the phone booth.”

Reese laughed and carefully lowered her to her feet. “So worth it.”

“Definitely worth it.”

Reese’s phone buzzed. He ignored it. Once. Twice. Third buzz…relentless.

“Christ,” he muttered, “give me a second while I turn this thing off.”

“No, get it. It might be about the fire.”

He sighed and went to his phone, seeing a message that made him groan. “Shit, totally forgot.”

“About what?”

“Reminder about the fundraiser in Seattle tomorrow. At least it’s close.” He paused, looking at Grace. “Come with me.”

“What?”

“Come with me to the fundraiser, as my plus one.” He took her hands. “Please, Grace.”

“But…I don’t have a dress.” She said it lightly, but he caught the tension underneath. “I mean, I have a dress. The black one I wear to funerals and the pink one I wear to the occasional wedding. But something tells me that’s not going to cut it for whatever this event is.”

“I’ll have something delivered. First thing tomorrow morning. What’s your favorite designer? Favorite color?”